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In The Sanctuary Of My Head

The Broken-Winged Birds and People (re-edited 4/5/2323 3:03PM PST) (re-edited 11:14am PST 2/23/2023)

The Hell Of Winter (re-edited 4:27pm PST 3/9/2023)

My Grey Haired Love...La La Lullaby , La La Lullaby My Love

THE HEART IS AN ORGAN ON FIRE



When Mr. Bemish Lost His Last Good Pair of Glasses

Kathy Brown Kathy Brown

Something Not Quite Right About Here (Vortex) re-edited 1/26/2023

THE COOL TILES BENEATH MY FEET REMIND ME

The Way Of The Crow

DO YOU TURN THE LIGHTS SO YOU CAN SLEEP?

The Springtime Shadows Play Games Upon The Wall

CHRONICLER OF DREAMS

YET ANOTHER ANTI-POETRY POEM ( re-edited 11/2/2022)

You Do As You Please 8/17/2005 found poem, readjusted 6/20/22

HERE WE SIT AT OUR TABLE 2/19/2022

Much Better Than This ( A Conversation With The Universe)

The Straight Story (What Happens When The Writer Inserts You Into Her Story)

THE TIDE CALLED LONELINESS

A Girl Always Leaning Forward Looking for A Breeze

Entanglements

Have You Ever... (DECEMBER 4/2021)

Appetites

How I Still Love You

The Smile Which Eludes @

He Says To Me, I Think Too Much (and hence dream too much as well)

When You Learn Who You Really Are And What Is...

Anti-Poem Number Three 8/2/2022 Or, A Poem Your Proper Mother Wouldn't Write

Breathing On My Own

A Girl Is More Than a Beautiful Box re-edited 10:15pm PST 1/31/22

I LOVE YOU ALWAYS ANYWAY AND INSTEAD

Talk To Me In The Dark 7/8/2022

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The Springtime Shadows Play Games Upon The Wall


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last year the Spring leaves
made a silhouette on my upper bedroom wall
and ceiling
as if God, Himself, had cut out folded paper leaves--
the details so precise and delicate

they were there
adorning the wall for me to see
when I woke up from my late afternoon nap
pantomiming real life
saw-toothed edge crisp
and giving my artist's eyes a gift
of simple yet refined happiness

today I woke and saw once more
the silhouette of the leaves
but the shadows were altered

they remind me
instead of how far removed I am
I can no longer pretend to be perched high
in a tree-house home;
I am not Jane to my partner's Tarzan
this is not a leafed nest
in some primeval rain forest

outside the entire world is ravaged
by mistrust, hate, prejudice and disease
some of it malingering ailments
and others, perhaps, a planned accident
by some careless madman

these all are long ingrained
experiences in the frail humanity
called mankind
it is more than unkind
it is a huge systemic failure
to see and to care and to understand
how much alike we are in our fragility

now as I watch the shadows on the wall
lengthen into night
I am aware that there is also
gathering darkness in my room
my thoughts
only interrupted
by the playing of taps
by a broken tree branch upon
the bedroom window


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legal copyright for this poem 11:47 AM PST June 16, 2020
time/date stamped and also for this poet Melissa A. Howells
and also  for this legally copyrighted and REGISTERED site title
Meloo Straight From Her Tilt-a-World





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